


Would Be Warlord

by Opaque_Mistake



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: $50 Steaks, Abduction, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Slavery, Implied/Referenced Slavery, Political Satire, Slurs, Warning: Donald Trump, Warning: Immortan Joe, winning temperment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opaque_Mistake/pseuds/Opaque_Mistake
Summary: Immortan Joe holds a summit with the leaders of the Wastes and would-be warlord Donald Trump. This was buried within another collection of my more adult short stories, but I wanted to pull it out, tag it appropriately and make it available to a broader audience.  Because: Donald Trump.  Warning: Donald Trump uses a homophobic slur.





	

“You’re late,” Joe grumbled at the orange haired would-be warlord.

All the other leaders had taken their seats around Joe’s thick Old World oak table. The Bullet Farmer and his first lieutenant, the People Eater and his lead imperator, even Aunty Entity accompanied by the man they called Iron Bar. All curious to hear from this newcomer who claimed he could “make the wasteland great again.”

Bullshit, Joe had thought when he first heard this. The Wastes had been made great under his own stewardship. The trifecta of water, oil and bullets. Trade agreements with Bartertown. Even a freshly inked treaty with the Rock Riders that would protect caravans through the mountains. There was nothing this brash newcomer could offer. 

Joe began making the necessary introductions, noting that Aunty seemed to bristle when the newcomer insisted on hugging her instead of shaking hands. Trump’s Imperator, a man named “Pens” or some such nonsense seemed doughy and weak. Mediocre, Joe thought to himself. 

But then The Immortan realized that The Donald had brought someone else along. His daughter, a young woman and beautiful. Maybe, just maybe this brash newcomer had come to make a real deal.

“I call this summit to order,” Joe boomed once they were all seated. “The Donald, I am told you have a proposal to put before us.”

“Yes, yes… thank you all for coming together.” The Donald started “I want to let you know, that I win. I have a winning temperament, I came here to win and I intend to win”

“Did he say that out loud?” The Bullet Farmer huffed sarcastically under his breath. Joe had to gesture at the People Eater to quit giggling over it.

“Gentlemen,” The Donald continued “well… gentlemen and the ladies. Both of you. Lovely ladies. Miss Entity, I have to say you’ve got legs for days… and on a woman your age that _is_ impressive. And Joe, you get an eyeful of my daughter, here? Gorgeous isn’t she? If I wasn’t her father… You know what I’m saying old man. I don’t know about the fat faggot you have cooking your books, but between you and I, she’s pretty bangable, right.”

Joe had to stifle a laugh behind his death mask. Auntie was shooting daggers from her eyes across the table, and the People Eater sneered, but Joe loved the direction this conversation was going. The girl was tall, blonde and indeed bangable, and would be a perfect addition to the vault. 

“Anyway gentlemen,” Joe wasn’t sure The Donald had even stopped to breathe, “I didn’t come here today to talk about beautiful women. I came here to talk about a wall. The wall you folks are going to build for me. Keep the Buzzards out of my side of the Wastes. Those bastards are a pain in my backside.”

“The wall _we_ are going to build for _you_?” The People Eater interrupted, fingers stroking his nipple in clear irritation, “A wall across the Wastes? A ridiculous waste of resources, that’s nonsense. Where would we even get the materiel to do such a thing? Much less the labor.”

The Donald gesticulated wildly, “That’s where my genius comes in! I know how to win and I’m going to give you a winning solution to building this wall. Joe, you’ve got a ton of these Wretched at your gate, right? Entitled bastards, laying about just waiting for water. Think of this as a jobs programme. Put those leeches to work building me a wall, get them off your welfare rolls.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “And what would you offer us in return? I assume you brought your lovely daughter here for a reason.”

“Offer you?” The Donald looked affronted, “That is my offer. Put your people to work, and **build me a wall**. What does my daughter have to do with this?”

Both Auntie Entity and the Bullet Farmer started openly laughing at this point.

Joe looked The Donald straight in the eye, his blue eyes piercing. “I have no need for a jobs programme,” he explained in a tone voice reserved for pups and Rictus, “I need an heir. Your daughter is lovely, presumably fertile, and as you say ‘bangable,’ if I can have my personal physician examine her, maybe we can come to an agreement to assist you with your wall.”

The People Eater made a groan of protest, while Joe covertly gestured for an Imperator to find him the Organic Mechanic. 

“My wall? No, you don’t realize, this is not my wall, this is **your wall**. You will build it if you want to continue to have trade with my region of the wastes.” The Donald seemed not to understand what Joe had implied about his daughter and agreements.

“Your region of the wastes?” the Bullet Farmer asked, “My farm adjoins your region of the wastes. There’s nothing to trade there. It’s all salt. Just a handful of abandoned old world hotels with broken out windows.”

“I’ll have you know those hotels are the finest hotels money could build, I had an airline once, and a magazine.” The Donald said defensively. “And steaks, we sold steaks. The world’s greatest steaks, and I mean that in every sense of the word. $50 a pound steaks.”

Chatter broke out all around the table. Shadows shifted in the doorway, as Organic edged into the room. Two Imperators, communicating in quiet gestures, slunk behind the blonde girl's seat. 

**“QUIET!!!”** Joe boomed, slamming his hands on the heavy wood table. Imperator Pens seemed to shrink into his seat. 

“I am not interested in $50 a pound steaks or old world hotels. I am interested in the breeding capacity of your daughter.” Joe pointed directly at the daughter, at which the two Imperators grabbed her by the arms. 

“Papa!” she screamed, thrashing, “do something!”

“I’m doing something dear, can’t you see that? I’m winning. I have a winning temperament, I’m winning this meeting.” The Donald babbled, his words making less and less sense as Joe’s minions first carried off his daughter and then moved to detain Imperator Pens. “I’m winning because I have endurance, I have the endurance to outlast all of you.”

Frothing at the mouth, The Donald pointed around the table at the other warlords, now openly mocking him. 

Organic leaned his scarred head into Joe and whispered in his ear. “Great idea,” Joe boomed. “Let’s cage him up in the Blood Shed and finish our **negotiations** there.”

As the warlords rose to adjourn, Auntie Entity strolled over to where several Imperators were hog-tying The Donald. “I’ve got a jobs programme for you, Raggedy Man. You can shovel shit, can’t you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to Ms. Ivanka Trump if this veers uncomfortably into RPF. But given the character of Mr. Trump and of Immortan Joe, I had to include a daughter figure.


End file.
